


Better

by Cerani



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (in fact intended as such but it stands on its own), Apologies, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Other, Past Abuse, can be read as future Sherlock/John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerani/pseuds/Cerani
Summary: "You don't deserve it, you know. What I did. At the hospital. You don't." John shakes his head. "You don't deserve that. It's unacceptable."





	Better

 

"You don't deserve it, you know."

John mentions this offhand during one of his rounds of keeping watch. Sherlock is totally confused, as he's folded up in his chair watching some stupid daytime telly he can complain at. His brow scrunches up, and then he glances at John, who gazes steadily back.

"Deserve what? An hour of television?" Sherlock's mouth quirks as he tries not to smile. "When did you become my mother and this become timeout?"

John huffs a small laugh, because it's Sherlock, and he can't help but laugh when it's Sherlock. But he licks his lips and sobers, casting his eyes at the carpet as he gathers his courage again. "What I did. At the hospital. You don't." John shakes his head. "You don't deserve that. It's unacceptable."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, and when he looks up Sherlock is just looking at him, seeming more confused than anything, like he's trying to decipher the latest human interaction he doesn't understand. Social, social interaction. Stop referring to him as if he's not human himself. He is the most human out of the two of them, after all.

"Sherlock, do you hear me? You don't deserve that." John repeats. He clenches his left hand then lays it out flat on the arm of his chair. "You deserve better from me-"

"Don't." Sherlock interrupts. It's the start of a sentence, but he doesn't continue. He blinks, presses his mouth together, and then shakes his head. "No. You've always deserved better from me. It's only right I receive the consequences of that."

John leans forward with his elbows on his knees and breathing out a rough sigh, because _Christ, Sherlock._ "Just because you've been a shit in the past doesn't make it right. Jesus." He pushes his palms into his eyes, then shakes his head again, looking back at Sherlock. "We've both been awful, but that doesn't make it okay. Beating the shit out of you while you were already in need of hospital was the worst fucking mistake of my _life_ , Sherlock. It's not okay, it's unacceptable."

Sherlock doesn't say anything for another moment, and then tells him quietly, "It was human."

He lets out a bitter laugh. "It might be human, but that's setting the bar pretty fucking low. I mean I get it, I know what you're saying. We make mistakes. But, fuck, I should be facing harsher consequences for that than my own fucking self-loathing . . . shouldn't I?" He lets his hands drop between his knees, hanging there helplessly. He's got to remember, he knows better, he knows that Sherlock does not hold himself in high regard, he's got to remember that.

"John." Sherlock says after a few seconds of silence. "John, look at my face. What do you see?"

He looks at him dutifully, traces his eyes over the planes of his face, and settles on the subconjunctival hemorrhage in his left eye, and the stitched cut on his face that will probably scar, which is actually the second scar he's left on Sherlock's face. He sees the damage wrought by his hands on the face of a man who has learned from his mistakes, and continues to try and do better for the people he loves.

Sherlock sighs and glances at the floor, as if he knows exactly what John's thinking. Maybe he does. "John, as ever you see, but you have not observed." He quirks another small smile, the phrase a tiny referential joke, but John doesn't smile back and it fades. "You left, and you . . . yes you - did that. This." He gestures at his face. "But you also saved my life, and physically tore a serial killer off me. If not for John Watson, for so many times now, I would not be sitting here. Do you understand?" He asks, a pleading note bleeding into his voice. "There are good parts to this facet of you too."

"You still deserve better than that." John whispers, holding his gaze even as his eyes fill once more with tears, and bites his mouth to stop it trembling.

Sherlock's eyes skitter away, and one of his hands start fidgeting on his thigh as though on the fretboard of his violin. " . . . Maybe. I - maybe."

"You do. I think you do." Christ, they really are a pair. He rubs at one of his knees and squeezes it. "Listen. I - I just. Needed you to hear that. And I can't - don't want to make promises." He takes a deep, shaky breath, forcing his voice to come back. "I meant what I said, I want to be that man you think I am."

"You said that to Mary." Sherlock points out, fingers still tapping something out.

"I said it to you too. All of it." Those fingers stutter to a stop. "So, yeah. I'll be working on that. I don't - I don't think I can be him. But I can do better to you. For you."

Sherlock stares at him, but if he's reading him right, if he actually does know him half as well as he hopes he does, then there's something like hope in his face. For what, at this point he has no fucking clue, but it's there. Sherlock swallows, closing his mouth, and finally he gives a tiny nod. "Okay. That's. Okay."

John nods once, quick and short, and sits back in his chair. "So tell me if that's really his baby or not." His best friend grins, and launches into a perfect tirade on the hems of the man's shirt that may or may not actually be true.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short thing I wrote not long after s4 aired, when I was still reeling over everything I had seen, and needed to make it better for myself. Thus the title. After a long time of deliberation, I decided it would be a good idea to post it here.


End file.
